


A Christmas Carol

by Flying_Monkees



Category: No Fandom
Genre: just in case. This is slightly AU though., s2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-24
Updated: 2007-12-24
Packaged: 2020-04-11 13:01:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19110190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flying_Monkees/pseuds/Flying_Monkees
Summary: Sylar is visited by three ghosts.  You know the story.





	A Christmas Carol

Title: A Christmas Carol  
Author: flying_monkees  
'Verse: Heroes  
Claim: General-Sylar, implied Mylar.  
Rating: R, just in case for language.  
Warnings: S2, just in case. This is slightly AU though.  
Disclaimer: Heroes does not belong to me no matter how much I wish it did.  
Summary: Sylar is visited by three ghosts. You know the story.  
A/N: This was written for [](http://mission-insane.livejournal.com/profile)[**mission_insane**](http://mission-insane.livejournal.com/) and just because I wanted to do a different take on A Christmas Carol. Hope you enjoy. Beta'd by the wonderful [](http://flwrpwr-vampyre.livejournal.com/profile)[**flwrpwr_vampyre**](http://flwrpwr-vampyre.livejournal.com/) , thanks tons!  
Table/Prompt: Novels-Short Stories/A Christmas Carol

Sylar scowled as he walked through the crowds. It was late and he couldn't believe how many people were still out shopping! He didn't like dealing with crowds and crowds during the holidays were even worse! Growling after being bumped for the fifth time in 10 minutes, he finally made it back to his apartment.

He was glad to be home, making sure to lock the door behind himself. It wasn't until he turned on the TV that he realized what day it was. Christmas Eve. Sighing as he stretched out on the couch, he gazed at the television hoping to forget how alone and miserable he felt.

He woke up with a jerk, sensing someone in the room. There was no heartbeat though, how could there be no heartbeat? Sitting up he looked around, freezing at what he saw.

Chandra Suresh sat in a chair by the table, a cup of tea sitting in front of him. He looked over at Sylar, smiling.

"Wh-what the hell? Who are you, what are you doing here?" Sylar growled, getting up from the couch.

"Who do you think I am Gabriel?" Chandra, or whoever, asked him; taking a sip of his tea.

"You look like Chandra Suresh, but that's not possible. He's dead," Sylar looked at him. He couldn't figure this out. Was he dreaming or was this real?

Chandra shrugged. "I am dead. I've come to warn you Gabriel. Warn you about how you've been living your life. This isn't the way you were meant to use your power."

"Powers. I have more then one now Chandra, thanks to you and your son," Sylar grinned.

Chandra just gazed at him thoughtfully for a minute. "Be that as it may Gabriel, I've come to warn you. Because you can't seem to mend your ways, to see that what you are doing is wrong, it has been decided that you will be visited by three ghosts. They will show you where you have gone wrong and where you need to fix your life."

Sylar laughed. "How is that going to work Chandra? I don't regret anything I've done, why would I want to change?" Chandra just looked at him sadly.

"Whether you want it too happen or not Gabriel, you will be visited. Expect the first ghost at midnight."

"I'm so scared." Sylar sneered. "What, they show me the errors of my ways and I'll wake up a changed man? Not going to happen Chandra, so just forget it," Sylar looked out the window. When he looked back to tell Chandra to go away, he was already gone. Shrugging his shoulders, Sylar went to bed.

A few hours later, he was woken by a banging noise from the kitchen. Opening his eyes, he blearily walked out to see what the hell was going on. Seeing Mohinder in his apartment, making tea, startled him.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed, staring.

"Don't worry about it Zane, there's nothing to be concerned about," Mohinder took the whistling teakettle off the stove, pouring the water into the cups. He stirred the tea leaves around, letting them steep. He turned back to Sylar. "I'm just making some tea."

"But-but…" Sylar looked at him in confusion. "Did you just call me Zane?" Mohinder nodded.

"I call you by the name I knew you best as. I suppose I could call you Sylar, but I prefer Zane. It seems to fit better." He picked up the cups, setting them on the table. "Sit down, we need to talk."

Sylar shook his head, trying to decipher what was going on. Behind him, he heard the clock chime midnight. He glanced up at Mohinder. "You're the ghost; the one that Chandra warned me was coming. But you're not dead, are you?"

Mohinder laughed. "No, I'm not dead. But neither am I really Mohinder either. I'm the Ghost of Christmas Past, and your mind picked the best person to represent that." He indicated his body. "This is what your mind picked."

"Will all the ghosts be like that then? People I know?" Sylar growled.

"Of course. People that mean something to you anyways." Mohinder sat at the table, sipping his tea.

"So what do you mean to me then?" Sylar sat down, picking up the tea cup. He took a sip, finding it tasted pleasant.

Mohinder shrugged. "What ever you want. You're the one that picked this image. Enough of this, there was a reason I came here tonight." He set his cup down.

"Yeah, yeah. You'll show me where I made mistakes in the past; show me what I've lost. I know the story Mohinder." Sylar rolled his eyes.

Mohinder glared at him. "Fine then, let's cut through the pleasantries." He grabbed Sylar's hand. Sylar felt his head spin, the room fading away. When he was able to focus again, he found himself standing outside the clock shop. He peered inside the windows, seeing his father sitting at the work bench. Hunched over, working hard on fixing a watch. Movement out of the corner of his eye made him turn his head. Little Gabriel ran over to his father, grinning from ear to ear.

"Dad, Dad, look what I did! I fixed it for you." Gabriel held out his chubby little hand, his five year old face beaming with pride. The antique watch nestled in his palm, gleaming dully in the light. His father looked over the edge of his glasses at the watch.

"That looks like nice work Gabriel but be careful, okay?" His dad smiled softly at him.

"I will dad, promise." Gabriel carefully walked back towards the counter. Just as he was setting the watch on the counter, he dropped it. It fell, smashing onto the floor, gears flying everywhere. Gabriel watched in horror. He had worked so hard on it so his father could leave early for Christmas Eve, now he had made things even worse. He started crying, burying his face into his hands. Gabriel's father sighed, pushing his chair back and coming to squat down next to his son. He wrapped his arms around Gabriel, trying to comfort him.

"It's okay Gabriel. I know you didn't mean to do that. I'll fix it later. Let's get you home, mom is probably wondering where you are." He grabbed Gabriel's coat, bundling him up. Locking the shop door, they walked hand-in-hand home.

"Your father was a very kind man. He didn't want you to feel bad for making him stay at the store all night to fix the watch." Mohinder stared at Sylar, watching his face carefully.

Sylar glared back. "He was a fool. He let people walk all over him, barely making enough to keep his family fed and sheltered. He could've been so much more." He watched as the two figures fade into the crowd. A fleeting wistfulness passed across his eyes before they turned hard again. "Is this all you've got? It'll take more then this to make me turn away from my destiny." Mohinder sighed, taking hold of Sylar's hand again.

The dizziness didn't last nearly as long this time. When the world came back into focus, he found himself in front of the clock shop again. This time though, when he peered in, it wasn't his father at the work bench, it was himself. His younger self looked up as the door bell jingled, a beautiful girl walking in. Sylar gulped. Mandy.

"Gabriel, hi! Are you busy?" Mandy asked, walking over to the hunched figure at the bench. Gabriel stared, mouth hanging open slightly.

"M-Mandy. Hi, how are you? What can I do for you?" He stammered, standing up.

"I was wondering if you had plans over Christmas. I know you will be spending time with your mom, but I'm having some friends over later on Christmas Day and I was wondering if you would like to come." Mandy gave him a bright smile, brushing her red hair out of her eyes.

"I-I'm sorry Mandy, I just won't be able to come over. My mom wants me to go too church with her." Gabriel blushed, looking at the floor.

"Oh. That's too bad. Well, if you change your mind, everyone is coming over about 6 o'clock. I hope you can make it Gabriel; it'd be nice to see you. I've missed talking with you." She gave him a sad smile before heading out the door.

"She seems nice. Why didn't you go?" Mohinder asked Sylar as he watched Gabriel go back and sit down at the bench. "It seemed as if she liked you a lot."

Sylar frowned. "No, she was just trying to be nice. She'd always been nice, even when the other kids were mean. That's just the way she was."

Mohinder shook his head. "No, I think she liked you. A lot. But you weren't able to see that. You threw away a friendship, maybe even something more, because you were too afraid." Sylar turned his head away, refusing to look at Mohinder. Taking his hand, Mohinder shifted reality once again.

Sylar looked around, surprised to find himself back home again. He turned to ask Mohinder what they were doing here, but he was gone. Sylar spun around, but the ghost was truly gone. Smiling in relief, he started to head back towards his bedroom when the clock chimed 1 o'clock. A movement out of the corner of his eye made him turn, seeing another figure standing there, Peter stood in the light coming from the bathroom.

"Petrelli!" Sylar snarled, moving quickly towards the other man. Peter shook his head.

"No Sylar, I'm not Peter. I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present."

Sylar groaned. "Look, whatever you have to say isn't going to change anything so why don't you and all your other ghost friends just leave me the hell alone."

"Sorry, you know that's not how it works. Come on, we've got places to go." Peter grabbed Sylar's arm, pulling him forward. Reality shifted, just like it had with Mohinder, and Sylar found himself standing outside a familiar door.

"This is Mohinder's apartment! What the hell are we doing here?" He growled, pulling away from Peter.

"You'll see. Sounds like there's a party…" Peter smiled big, phasing through the door. Sylar frowned, slowly following him.

Mohinder's small apartment was packed with people and Sylar recognized some of them. There was Mohinder himself, a little girl ( _Molly?_ ) holding tight to his hand. The fat cop was over by the table, drinking punch and talking to the tall blonde that had hit him with the parking meter at Kirby Plaza. Nathan was sitting on the couch, talking to Bennet as his daughter Claire handed them both cups. Sylar walked through the crowd of people, listening to them talk and joke.

Matt had finished talking to the blonde and went to stand by Mohinder. "Looks like everyone's having a good time."

Mohinder grinned. "Yes. I just wish…" he let out a heavy sigh.

"You need to stop that. He's never going to change and even if he did, no one here would let him anywhere near you. He's done nothing but hurt you and everyone here, he doesn't deserve our compassion or our forgiveness."

"But Matt, it's Christmas Eve. Even if I don't believe in the holiday, I can still believe in giving people second chances, can't I?" Mohinder asked Matt sadly.

"Anyone but him Mohinder. All he deserves is a bullet in the head." Matt growled. Seeing the look in Mohinder's eyes he turned away, walking over to Nathan and Bennet.

"Who does he think deserves a second chance?" Sylar asked the ghost, confused.

"Who do you think? Out of everyone that Mohinder cares about, who would need a second chance?" Peter stared into his eyes, waiting for him to figure it out.

"Me? He cares enough about me that he wants to give me a second chance? He's more of a fool then I thought." Sylar snorted, watching as Molly ran up to Mohinder, hugging him around the waist.

"Some would call him a fool. Some would say he's in love. Either way, it doesn't matter. You say you won't change, not even for him." Peter smiled, watching as some of the people started to dance, laughing and having fun.

Sylar just growled at him, ignoring the party goers. After a few minutes, Peter took hold of him again, pulling him to a new place and time. Sylar looked around; they were in some hole in the wall hotel. The place looked like it was falling apart, it was sad and depressing.

"Who the hell do I know here?" Sylar snapped at Peter, who just walked up to a door, peering through the window. He walked over, standing next to the smaller man, looking through the window also.

He saw himself, lying on a mattress bowed from use. The TV was on, the newscaster announcing the latest in a string of bizarre murders. The other Sylar grinned as he watched the news.

"Why are you showing me this? Why should I care where I'm spending Christmas Eve?" He asked Peter.

"Because, even with all your powers you're all alone, staying in a roach infested hotel. No one to talk too, no one to spend the Holidays with. Doesn't it bother you?" Peter turned dark eyes towards the killer standing next to him.

"Hell no. I don't need anyone or anything. Christmas is just another day on the calendar, just another chance to gain a power to make myself stronger." Sylar looked at Peter for a moment before turning back to the room. The cell phone next to the bed suddenly started to ring and he watched as his other self answered it.

"Hello?" He asked cautiously, eyes flickering towards the window. Sylar could hear the person on the other end of the phone breathing. Then a familiar voice spoke.

"Sylar."

"Mohinder? Why are you calling me?" The other Sylar snapped, his grip tightening on the phone.

"I just…I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. To ask you once more to turn yourself in, pay penance for all the pain and suffering you've caused." Mohinder's voice sounded heavy, like he was weighing each and every word before he spoke them.

The other Sylar laughed. "Why? I'm just following my destiny, my evolutionary imperative. I don't know how many times I have to tell you no Mohinder before you finally get it." His eyes suddenly narrowed, a predatory smile creeping across his face. "Why don't you come with me? We'll go on another road trip, just like the good old days. What do you say?"

"No. You know I can't do that Sylar. Please, don't ask me to do that." There was a heavy sigh. "I just wanted to wish you a Happy Holiday Sylar. Wherever you are, I hope you're happy."

"I am Mohinder, I am." There was a click as the line went dead. The other Sylar stared at the phone for a few minutes before closing it. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. When he lay back on the bed, Sylar could see tear tracks running down his cheeks.

"Is he crying? Over Mohinder? Why doesn't he just go and get him if he wants him so bad? No one would be able to stop him." He fumed, furious at his other self for being so weak.

"Because he knows that if he forces Mohinder to go, he would hate him the entire time they were together. And that's not what he wants. He wants Mohinder to want to be with him. And he doesn't know how to get that."

Sylar snorted. "He's weak then. He deserves to be alone and miserable." He turned away from the window. There was a heavy weight in his chest, something that he had never felt before. Swallowing around the lump, he realized that reality was shifting again. He was back in his apartment, Peter no where to be seen. Turning tired eyes towards the clock, he saw that it was nearly 2 a.m. He stood there, waiting. He knew the last ghost was coming and that there was no point on going anywhere. A scraping noise came from behind him just as the clock struck 2. Turning, he saw an imposing figure standing there silently, waiting for him.

"So, it's you. Figures you'd be the one. You're my 'Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come,' huh?" Sylar glared at Bennet who just looked back. Bennet grabbed Sylar's arm, pulling him forward. The room shifted and Sylar found himself standing in a graveyard.

"Why the hell did you bring me here?" He looked around at all the tombstones. None of the names looked familiar. Bennet raised an arm, pointing to a small headstone, off in the corner by itself. Sylar walked over to it. When he read the name, he felt his knees buckle. Mohinder Suresh. He noticed the year, only a few years from his present.

"How? How did he die? And why didn't I stop it?" Sylar looked up at Bennet who just shrugged. Whatever had happened, it must've been when Sylar was unable to help Mohinder, or… "Did I do this? Did I kill him?" Bennet nodded once. Sylar looked back down at the lonely grave. "I didn't mean to, I'm sure I didn't mean to." Bennet put his hand on Sylar's shoulder, gripping it tightly. The graveyard melted away, replaced with a familiar sight. He was back in Mohinder's apartment. But something was different.

The place seemed empty, devoid of life without Mohinder there. Sylar looked around, seeing the fat cop talking on the phone. The little girl sat at the table, doing homework.

"You're kidding. He did? When? Uh huh…" Matt nodded to whoever was on the other side of the phone. They were telling him something important, Sylar could tell. Every few minutes Matt would make another sound, another acknowledgement of what was being said. After a few minutes, he hung up, turning a thoughtful gaze towards Molly. "Molly, I need to tell you something." Matt sat down next to her.

Molly looked up at Matt, a frown crossing her face. "What? I have to get this homework done." Matt sighed.

"That was Nathan. He called to say that Peter has finally killed him. That we don't ever have to worry about him coming after us again." Molly just looked at him blankly. "Molly honey, Sylar's dead. He won't ever hurt us again."

"Oh. Is that all? I have to get this done." She bent her head, working on her homework again. Matt just gave her a sad smile, going to the kitchen to start dinner.

"That's it? That's all I get? I used to terrify her, doesn't she care?" Sylar snarled. Bennet just shook his head. "I thought they'd all be happy when I died." Bennet just shrugged his shoulders again. Sylar looked around the apartment again, seeing nothing but normal behavior. "Get me out of here; I don't want to be here anymore." Bennet nodded, taking hold of him again.

Sylar blinked, finding himself back in his own apartment, the clock softly chiming 3 o'clock. His head hurt, but he knew that he didn't have time to deal with it. He remembered everything that the ghosts had shown him.

"If you thought that was going to change things, you're sadly mistaken." He grinned maliciously. He grabbed his coat, walking quickly out the door. He had a geneticist he needed to see, one that he needed to convince to go on a road trip with him again.

He sang under his breath as he headed towards Mohinder's apartment.

"He sees you when you're sleeping; he knows when you're awake. He knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake."


End file.
